


Tip

by stuffjohnwatsonsbelly



Series: The YouTube Series [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Bloating, Liquid bloat, M/M, Masturbation, belly stuffing, mentos and coke bloat, stuffing kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffjohnwatsonsbelly/pseuds/stuffjohnwatsonsbelly
Summary: Only an hour after posting his latest video as Username999, John Watson's secret hobby tips over into something new. . .





	Tip

**Author's Note:**

> Not your thing? Don't read.
> 
> If this is your thing? Enjoy the porn I mostly write for myself. This is a continuation of the series started in "Stumble." Enjoy and happy orgasms :)

John leaned back in his chair and peered over the huge crest of his stomach. 

Even an hour later, it was still swollen and hard, aching where the skin stretched along his sides to accommodate how much he’d grown while he swallowed down all the liquid he could physically hold.

It was only just now starting to fade – the pressure and the pain. He could almost suck in his stomach halfway now, if he tried, but he would still keep his shirt off, just a few minutes longer, until he started to feel squishy and bloated instead of tight and round.

He scrolled idly through the incoming YouTube comments while he sat back and lightly scratched the skin of his belly. He’d long since taken off the pulled-down baseball cap and run his fingers through his hair. His tan fingers roamed idly over the curved pale skin of his stomach, lazily circling his navel, which was slowly sinking back in after he’d popped it out while stuffing. It was the first time that that had ever happened to him during a session, and the sensation of it, the thrumming, pulsing bursts that had shot out from his stomach as his finger flicked at the nub, had almost made him come right then in his pants. 

He’d held out, though, longer and fuller than he ever had before. It was the first time he’d ever dared show himself touching his own erection at the end of one of his videos. He always masturbated at the end, sure. That was the whole point for him. To look down at himself, bursting and huge, and come while his stomach pressed out and cramped at the contracting wave from between his thighs. But he always cut that part out of the footage and immediately deleted it right after, without even watching. Actually, he never watched any of it at all.

This time, he wasn’t sure at all why he’d left in those last few seconds of touching himself. He decided he couldn’t even really be bothered to care what the reason was. He’d just trimmed off the end of the video like usual, then, for some reason, moved the editing bar just a few centimeters to the right, burning up the back of his neck as he watched the soundless thumbnail footage showing his hand reach down between his legs.

The comments coming in were the usual fare. Most of the time, John barely even glanced at them. They weren’t the reason why he uploaded the videos, not really. Those comments were all about “Username999”, not actually about him.

He’d asked himself the question of _why_ he uploaded them hundreds of times, and the only answer he could ever come up with had been that other people did it, so why not him? After all, it was only due to stumbling across another person’s similar video that John realized this was even a thing, and then went out that same evening to guilty buy his first liter of soda from the corner store. Something about the risk of it, the shameful thrill . . . Something to make him feel physically alive after months staring blankly at his own white walls.

John realized, though, as his eyes skimmed the comments, that these ones were starting to look different – a little more . . .enthusiastic. 

Everyone was focused on the last few seconds of the video, the part where John let himself moan freely and stroke his erection through his jeans. John blushed reading the filthy words appearing on his screen – asking him to smear his semen over his belly, telling him he looked pregnant, ripe and ready to burst, telling him they’d get themselves off rutting against his tight stomach. And those were only the ones that he could get through reading without looking away.

He normally got a bit of a dark thrill at the knowledge people had watched him – more at the mere existence of the comments themselves than what they really said. These ones, though, made him suddenly look over his shoulder. He felt like he’d given a piece of himself away. Like that perfect, full moment looking down at his body while he warmly ached in his groin had now been taken from him, and changed into something that belonged to everyone else. As if the comments saying they wanted to fuck his belly, or stuff him until he burst, or rub his skin, were suddenly about _him_ , John Watson, and the line between his life and his laptop screen had been irreparably blurred.

But it wasn’t really gone, though, was it? He did still have it – that perfect moment. He still had the video . . .

And so John did something he’d never, ever done before. He scrolled back up to the top of the page, clicked on the start of his own video, and pressed play.

He took long, slow sips of some nearby water as he watched himself walk into the frame, wanting to keep himself full and round for just a little bit longer. The water sat thickly in his bloated stomach, cramping a bit in his gut, and John watched his full skin expand and swell with every breath as he peered over his belly at his laptop screen.

In the video, John watched himself stroke his arm and take deep breaths, his chest expanding beneath his t-shirt. His stomach flat.

Suddenly, the juxtaposition of his flat stomach on his laptop screen and the bursting curve of his belly sitting heavily on his thighs in real life sent a shiver of heat down John’s spine. He touched the bottom curve of his stomach, rubbing his hand between his belly and his thighs, and he moaned at the dense weight of it in his palm. He shivered again.

He was massive.

He could feel the blush spreading across his face as he allowed himself to keep watching. He saw his belly expanding into his palm, watched his body cramp and swell as he swallowed down one gallon after another. The memory of how it had felt – that building pressure behind his navel, stretching his sides, crushing his lungs – sang once again through his muscles, and he held his stomach in both hands, rubbing the sides, as he watched the video of himself moaning, gasping for air, nearly five minutes in and hardly able to stand.

He was breathing hard through his nose. His cock twitched again in his pants. 

He felt dirty, getting off watching his own self cram his belly with liquid, stuffing himself over-full while his belly still sat round and packed on his thighs an hour later. He’d never seen what he really looked like before – not like that, not from an outside perspective. He gaped at himself now, at the obscene full curve of his belly hanging between his hips on the screen, stretching the pulling skin around his sides, bursting round from his chest. He’d never seen his belly push that far out from his body before, weighing him down, growing and massive and bursting until it didn’t even look like a part of his own body –

John was stroking his thickening cock again with his hand through his pants. The tip of it pressed up against the underside of his belly, trapped beneath the weight. The video was going to end soon, he knew. 

He also knew he shouldn’t be doing this, that he didn’t _do_ this. He didn’t keep himself stuffed full for so long after he orgasmed and shut the camera off, and he didn’t go on drinking even more water while he sat there editing and uploading the video afterwards, and he sure as hell didn’t go back and re-watch his own bloody videos, getting off at the sight of his own body ballooning under his hands, whimpering at the pain he could still feel dully aching through his packed gut.

And yet . . . he was still hard. Harder, almost, than he had even been while doing the original stuffing in the first place. Something about it. . . it felt good. New. To be enjoying his body just for himself, in his own privacy, as if it was something he could do for _him_ , and not for the claim that people on YouTube were expecting it, since it had been his usual three months. 

He could just . . . he might as well . . .

John had an idea.

It burned like fire in his veins, making his throat dry. He hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the cramp that spread through his bloated stomach. His belly hung painfully from his front, still swollen and huge, but he knew he had a bit more room, and his skin wasn’t nearly as stretched tight as it had been an hour before.

He refused to stop and think of how ludicrous this all was as he closed his laptop and walked into the kitchen. He was waddling, he knew. He could feel the way his belly was hanging heavily off his front, making him have to lean back just to stay standing, and his hand rubbed the bottom of his stomach to try and fend off the cramping as he opened random cupboards, looking for something, anything.

He felt huge and exposed, the way his bare belly pressed forward into the kitchen as he huffed for breath, and his face burned at the knowledge that he was searching for something to stuff it even more, make it tighter, make his belly even heavier so he could barely walk.

He’d never walked around his small flat before after a stuffing, and certainly not with his shirt still off. He felt dangerous and obscene. He knew, obviously, that no one could actually see what he was doing. He was completely alone in his set of rooms, with all the blinds shut, and yet the thought still remained - that he was waddling around, stuffed, looking pregnant with a rounded belly, walking around his flat in the light of day, away from the safety of the one white bathroom wall where he’d always restricted his stuffing sessions to before.

John grinned when he finally spotted it – a remnant from a couple years back when he’d wanted to give it a try. He hadn’t been big enough, then, to be able to stretch enough to handle it – the fizzing and the expansion. It had been too painful too quickly, and his YouTube post for that time had had to be cut a few planned minutes short, since the swelling in his belly had been too painful and snuffed out the pleasure with pain.

Now, though. Now John knew he was big enough, could swell enough, could handle it. He knew that his skin could stretch, and his body expand . . .

He grabbed the leftover packets of mentos and went straight for the fridge, where a liter of cola he’d been saving for three months from then beckoned to him now, calling to be gulped down and inhaled so he could be filled. He idly rubbed his tummy with one hand, soothing the skin, as he made his way into his tiny bedroom, containing nothing but a plain bed and a full length mirror. 

John kept his eyes averted from the mirror, without knowing why, as he set the cola and mentos on the bed. Then, with shaky hands, he reached down to push his jeans and pants off his hips. He moaned once as he reached around the fullness of his belly, pulling down heavily on his spine as he bent forward to pull off the jeans. He clapped a hand to his belly to hold it still as he finally he stepped out of the clothes pooled around his ankles. He could feel his half-erect cock jutting out a bit from his body, but when he looked down to see it, it was hidden from view, covered by the swell of his belly.

John shivered, a full-body shiver, then unwrapped the first packet of mentos. He could feel his belly heaving with each deep breath, with barely any room to expand. The thought of being stretched even fuller, to grow heavier, to his absolute limit, made his cock thicken even more, until John could feel the blood pool in the bottom of his gut and swell his cock to a full erection. It pressed lightly against his belly, and John leaned back against his bedroom wall, bare skin against the plain white, as he closed his eyes and arched his back, causing his erection to drag along the stretched skin of his stomach.

Pleasure sparkled down his spine. He could hear himself breathe. 

Without stopping to think, John tipped back his head, threw in a mouthful of the mints, and started to chew. When his mouth was still mostly full, he picked up the cola, unscrewed the cap, and immediately started to drink in long, slow gulps. His belly immediately panged as he swallowed, protesting against packing anything more inside. John pressed his palm over his navel, feeling the pressure as he swelled, the tightening of his skin. 

And then, after about a minute of slow swallowing, he gasped. The inside of him was expanding, fizzing out of his control. The pressure of it exploded behind his navel, forcing out his packed stomach even rounder, even fuller, and John clutched helplessly at his swelling belly as it pushed into his hand. He could feel it inside his stomach, bloating himself, and it seemed as he looked down at the massive expanse of his belly that he could physically see himself growing, ballooning out from his chest in a heavy, full curve.

“Shit,” he breathed. He rubbed the aching skin, wincing at the pain, then brought the bottle back to his lips. He felt like he would burst, like his body had grown and grown until there wasn’t any more room, any capacity.

He drank even more.

He could hear himself moaning at the ache, his palm rubbing his tight skin. Looking down in between his swallows, all he could see was a gigantic belly pushing out round from his chest, swelling into the room, and he had to reach forward just to touch the tip of it with his hand. He held it up, shivering at the dense weight of what he was doing to his body.

He tried not to burp, desperate to hold in the tight ball of pressure high in his chest. When he was halfway through the cola, he nearly dropped it to the floor. He couldn’t bend over. Could barely even move. He bent his knees, moaning out in pain, until the cola hit the ground, before he clutched his belly with both hands and straightened back up. He hadn’t turned towards the mirror. Not yet.

He looked down at himself and held his stomach in his hands. “Christ, look what I’ve done,” he whispered. His own voice sounded too loud in the room. The thought of it, the thought of his shameful secret, bursting himself, filled his cock even more. It bobbed as he tried to breathe, weighted down by his hanging belly.

“So big,” he moaned, rubbing over his stretched stomach. He closed his eyes and focused on the feel of his hands tracing his over-sensitive skin. “I’m too full,” he breathed. He pressed hard against the tight skin, feeling no give. “Stuffed myself too full, too huge . . .”

And then, before he could stop himself, John waddled to the side, leaning back against the wall for support, and he opened his eyes.

He saw himself in the mirror. His mouth dropped open.

He was bloated, huge, obscenely stuffed until his pregnant belly looked like it would burst beneath his hands. It dwarfed the rest of his compact body, hung painfully between his hips and down from his chest. It looked like it was swelling beyond his control, as the cola continued to fizz and swell inside of him, pressing out against his completely full skin, pushing behind his stretched navel.

For the first time since he had ever tried stuffing, he saw his face.

It was him, really him. It was him, John Watson, naked, and erect, and swollen beyond his control, aching at the weight of the belly he’d stuffed himself with, unable even to suck it in. 

He was completely helpless, barely able to move, weighted down with the bloated belly he’d made. The one he was holding in his hands, rubbing to try and soothe. He watched his arms reach forward to try and hold it up, the way it ballooned out from his body farther than he’d ever even though possible. More massive and round than any belly he’d ever seen in other videos online.

He forced himself not to look away. He rubbed his hands over his belly, watching himself, then he arched his back and moaned. “Look at it,” he breathed. He pressed his belly farther into his hands, watching himself touch his skin. “You’re too stuffed to move. . .” he whispered, holding his gaze in the mirror. “Can’t even walk. Can’t even breathe. . .” 

He looked at his stuffed belly, his huge and heavy body. “Look what you did to yourself. . .” he moaned again, rubbing the top and sides. “Ruined yourself. . .your body –” 

He gasped as his fingernails scratched his sides, causing the skin to stretch tighter over the full curve. “Gave myself this huge belly . . . can’t even hold it. It’s growing . . .” He stifled a burp and caressed his stomach, trying to soothe it as it churned and ached. The cola was still fizzing inside of him, expanding. “Fuck, it’s getting bigger,” he whispered. “Getting even bigger –"

In a fit of madness John leaned down towards the floor, barely able to move, and picked the soda back up. He didn’t look away from the mirror as he leaned back against the wall, brought it to his lips, and started to gulp. He moaned as he drank, watching his belly press into his rubbing hand, trying to grow even though he couldn’t stretch even more. He was completely full, at his absolute limit, stuffed until he could barely breathe.

He watched himself drinking, gulping, swallowing. His chest heaved as he tried to gasp in breaths between swallows. He couldn’t even believe that it was himself in the mirror, with this massive belly swelling off his front, pressing down onto his cock.

With about five swallows left in the bottle, he started to feel dizzy. He leaned his full weight against the wall. He was too filled, to stuffed . . .

Two swallows left, and John burned at the whines escaping his throat. The skin of his belly was taut and hot beneath his palm, swelling into his hand . . .

He moaned, deep in his chest, and forced down one more painful swallow before he dropped the now empty bottle to the ground. He was finished. 

He leaned forward and clutched his belly in both hands, desperately trying to hold it, as it swelled between his palms.

“God, I can’t . .. I’m too . . . Fuck, look at me –”

John watched himself reach down beneath his belly to grab his cock. It was rock hard in his palm, and he gasped at the sudden pressure on his sensitive erection. He was dripping clear liquid from the tip. He watched it fall to the ground in the mirror.

Quickly, wildly, he pumped himself, watching the way his arm had to reach around the full weight of his belly. He watched himself struggle to stand, barley able to breathe, the way his belly hung over his hand as it flew over his erection, flushed and pink, rock hard, building and building the pleasure in his cock, tightening the painful skin of his belly, filled with building pressure.

“Come on,” he whispered at himself. “Fucking huge, come on. . . God, so swollen.” He cried out as his orgasm started to spark in his cock.

“Made yourself burst . . .”

With a cry, John suddenly came into his hand, longer and harder than any stuffing orgasm he’d ever had before. He watched himself come over his fingers, spewing down onto the floor. He clutched his belly with his other hand as it clenched and ached, painfully stretched with cramps as his orgasm shot up his spine.

He let his hand fall away from his over-sensitive cock as the pleasure started to fade from his limbs. He was panting, leaning back against the wall for all his support, pulled downward by the heavy weight of his heaving belly.

He was just about to either sink to the floor or try to haul himself to the sink, when, instead, a sudden idea made John stop in his tracks. 

He looked back up in the mirror, at his swollen, bloated form, stretched to his limit, and he took his hand covered in his semen and placed it in the center of his stomach. He sighed as he rubbed his semen over the tight skin of his belly, covering himself with his own release, until the stretched skin started to shine. He rubbed himself, the sensation covering him in pleasure, curling his toes, and let his tight stomach gradually relax into his palm, starting to loosen as he let his muscles ease and relax.

And somehow, through the pain and the discomfort and the bloated ache in his gut, John only had one thought as he watched his fingers trace his semen over the huge curve of his alien stomach.

It was beautiful.

His stomach looked beautiful, stretched and full, round and shining. It was him, his body, making himself feel perfect and filled and good.

John knew he would have to go into the bathroom soon for a piss and a shower, but before then, he slowly walked away from the mirror and crawled onto his bed. The cool sheets caressed his hot, naked skin. He rolled onto his side, slowly so the liquid in his belly wouldn’t cramp, and he cradled the curve of his full belly in his hands. It rested warmly against his thighs as it spilled before him onto the mattress. The skin expanded as he breathed.

And John knew, as he held himself, and felt the full curve of his body covered in his own release, that he would be doing the exact same thing three months from now. 

And he also knew, better than he’d known anything for a long time, that he wouldn’t be posting any more videos to his channel. That he wouldn't be anxiously filming, or editing, or covering his face.

That he was finally free.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you feel so inclined, let me know if you enjoyed :) It's nothing but love here in this precious little stuffing corner of AO3.
> 
> Next time: It's three months later. Sherlock waits for a video that never appears, and also manages to look up from a crime scene at just the right moment. . .


End file.
